The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  Jaresh nodded. Bad trouble would come about from this.

  “I really wanted to see that play,” Mira said softly.

  “A man is dead,” Bree responded tartly. “Our House may have a blood feud on its hands. How can you think of a silly play at such a time?” she asked.

  Mira was instantly contrite. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out,” she said. “I just wanted…” She shrugged. “Nevermind.”

  “I understood what you meant,” Bryce said, sounding gallant. “This could have been a very pleasant evening. You only wish it could have remained so, rather than have it end the way it did.”

  His words were kind, but to Jaresh they sounded overly obsequious, almost toadying. Wasn’t there some rumor about Bryce and Mira possibly marrying? Whatever. It wasn’t his concern.

  “There’s a lot better ways this night could have gone,” Jaresh agreed with a sigh. “Nanna’s going to be livid.”

  Bree smiled tightly. “I may have to find a nice little hole to hide in while you explain what happened.”

  “Thanks for the support,” Jaresh muttered.

  Who then must explain to a man of power how it is he has a dearth of a currency? Does one so cursed not have courage?

  ~A Sentya aphorism (attribution unknown)

  “That is…unfortunate news,” Dar’El Shektan murmured in his inimitable and classically understated fashion after Jaresh and Bree related the events of the evening. His coarse features – few would have labeled him handsome – creased into a frown of concentration as he idly rubbed his ruby earring, punched through the scar where his left ear had been neatly bisected during one of his four Trials. He stood and paced, crossing his study in three long and efficient strides. While time had robbed him of much of his strength, speed, and grace – even some of his height – Dar’El, like all Kumma men, remained in fit and fighting trim, practicing daily with the sword since one never knew when the City might again need his blade. Right now, warring with Chimeras was likely the last thing on his mind. A battle of a different sort occupied his thoughts, a concern reflected in his brooding eyes.

  “It’s a Devesh-damned disaster,” Amma said, glaring angrily. Though Satha Shektan, their mother, stared at the chessboard, she didn’t seem to be paying any attention to it. Amma and Nanna had been playing when Bree and Jaresh had come home, although Bree didn’t know why they bothered any more. Bree could count on one hand the number of times their father had won against their mother. Certainly Satha Shektan’s elegant loveliness had softened over the twenty-five years of her marriage, but her mind was still as keen and scalpel-sharp as ever. In fact, Amma was as much the reason for House Shektan’s current fortunes as Nanna. Together, the two of them were formidable, taking a small and lowly House and turning it into a rising power, one only a few rungs below the acknowledged leaders of Caste Kumma. Amma had recently stepped back from the day-to-day management of the House, but she still made sure to keep abreast of the important details. And Jaresh killing the only living son of Hal’El Wrestiva certainly counted as important.

  “It should not have happened,” Nanna said, flicking a glance at Jaresh. “You should not have been able to overcome the Wrestiva.”

  Jaresh grimaced sourly. “So I’ve been told,” he replied.

  “I still can’t believe Suge is dead,” Bree added.

  The four of them were alone, meeting in Nanna’s study. It was a large, square room, huddled in the back corner of the House seat. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves took up two adjacent walls, and they groaned beneath the weight of Nanna’s collection of scrolls, manuscripts, and oddities from his Trials. A large leather sofa and a number of sturdy, yet comfortable upholstered chairs, surrounded a low, marble-topped table placed before the fireplace. Hanging above the mantle was a map of Arisa. A trellis chandelier with a number of firefly pendants was centered upon the high, coffered ceiling and provided a bright, warm light. Several tables of various sizes were scattered throughout the rest of the room, and the largest one – upon which rested the chess set – took up much of the library’s center. Tall firefly floor lamps, one in each corner, provided more lighting, and a globe of the world rested on a pedestal near one of the bookshelves. Nanna stood next to his heavy, mahogany desk, which faced the door, and behind him was a wide, bay window. During the day, it offered a view of the gardens and Mount Bright, but right now, with night upon them, it reflected the contents of the room.

  “And yet he is dead,” Amma said. “Jaresh may have the blood of a Sentya, but his heart is Kumma.” She sounded both proud and sad at the same time.

  Nanna nodded. “And it is because he is of House Shektan, an almost-Kumma and not simply a Sentya, that Hal’El will require blood as payment for the death of his son.”

  Jaresh frowned. “Blood payment? Won’t he have to prove I acted in a malicious fashion?” he asked. “He can’t do that, can he? Not after what Suge said about Bree.”

  Nanna steepled his fingers beneath his chin with eyes closed while Amma stared out the large windows of the study, both lost in thought.

  “We will see,” Amma said, breaking the silence, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

  Bree had already considered the matter from every angle she could imagine. She was not as sanguine as Amma.

  Her nanna noticed. “You have something to say?” he asked.

  Bree paused to compose her thoughts. Long ago, she had been schooled by both Amma and Nanna to think first before speaking. It was a habit meant to help her organize her thoughts, and one her parents had insisted she practice. By now, it was second nature, and it had been years since she had been treated to her mother’s languid opprobrium of ‘interesting’, a single word used to convey both dismissiveness and contempt in response to rambling or disjointed explanations.

  “Hal’El is sure to understand his dilemma just as well as we do,” she began. “He knows the preponderance of proof will demonstrate that Suge’s actions demanded a physical confrontation. If he wishes to challenge us, he must first determine if it is in the interest of his House to do so.”

  “There won’t be much honor in challenging a Sentya,” Jaresh said with a derisive smile. “But in challenging the only Sentya son of an upstart rival…”

  “We must assume he will come for you,” Amma said.

  “The most important question still remains. How?” Jaresh replied.

  Bree found the other three looking at her; Jaresh with curiosity while her parents wore bland and polite expressions of interest, as if they assumed she would have an answer to Jaresh’s question and would be disappointed if she didn’t. She held in a sigh. Sometimes their expectations could be tiring, but now wasn’t the time to complain about it. “House Wrestiva is powerful and old. They wield far greater influence in the Chamber of Lords than we do. Hal’El might have to call in a few chits, but the Wrestivas are wealthy enough to absorb the cost. Younger Houses will not want to cross him, and the older Houses will be all too happy to link arms and help throw down an upstart. He’ll find a way.”

  Jaresh nodded in understanding. “He’ll bribe those who owe him nothing, call in the favors owed by those who rely on his House, and the older families will look to his leadership to prevent us from threatening their power.”

  “It all depends on if he can convince a majority of ‘Els to bring the matter before the Chamber of Lords,” Bree said. “If he manages to do so…” she shrugged, “…then it becomes a toss of the coin as to how the ‘Els will decide.”

  “Hal’El has never required much reason to hate our House. This will simply lend greater impetus for his desire to seek our destruction,” Dar’El said.

  “He’ll force you to acquiesce to his desires or see me die,” Jaresh said, looking sick. “It will set the House back for years.”

  Nanna nodded. “You see the problem. If I bend to Wrestiva’s will to the detriment of our own House, how can I reasonably name myself ruling ‘El?”

  “We won’t bend,” Amma vowed.

>   “And if Hal’El manages to put the matter regarding Suge’s death to the Chamber of Lords? What then?” Jaresh asked.

  “Then we’ll deal with the matter if and when it happens,” Nanna said, clapping his hands and calling the meeting to an end. “Let’s not stir up a hornet’s nest of panic until we learn what he intends. Go get some rest, both of you. If you can. I imagine tomorrow will be an eventful day.”

  Jaresh looked heartsick as they left Nanna’s study, and Bree felt a surge of sympathy for him, her brother with a Kumma’s heart who tried so very hard to be a warrior even though he was born to be an accountant. “We’ll find a way out of this,” she said, infusing her voice with as much certainty as she could.

  Jaresh looked her way for a moment before facing forward as they marched through the rear foyer and past the intersection with the long hallway running along the back of the house. The hallway was dimly lit with the small table lamps turned down for the night. A floating, elliptical staircase took up the back of the foyer.

  “You think Nanna’s right?” Jaresh asked. “About maybe nothing seriously bad coming from all this?”

  Bree could have told him ‘yes’, but it wasn’t in her nature to tell a comforting lie. “I think we need to be ready for whatever Hal’El Wrestiva tries. I think he’ll do his best to bring the matter to the Chamber of Lords.”

  “It won’t be easy to beat him in the Chamber.”

  “Life is a summer rain,” Bree reminded him. “Sometimes it replenishes.

  “And sometimes it storms,” Jaresh finished.

  “But we’ll pull through,” Bree said.

  They reached the top of the staircase, which ended at a broad landing. Branching off in both directions was a smaller hallway, which also ran along the back of the house and was also dimly lit with turned down table lamps. It was on the second floor that Bree’s bedroom and those of her brothers were to be found. Their parents slept downstairs in their own wing of the house.

  Jaresh paused at the landing. “I feel like we’re missing something,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, but it seems like it should be important.”

  Bree nodded in understanding. Something about the fight – or the scene after – it bothered her too, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “I keep going over what happened tonight,” she said, voicing her concerns. “Everything leading up to it and how it ended.” She paused and glanced at Jaresh, not wanting to hurt him but also knowing he needed to openly acknowledge what was true.

  “It’s alright, Bree,” Jaresh said with a sardonic smile. “You were going to say I had no business beating Suge. It should never have happened. Even I knew that when we were fighting.” He shrugged. “I just wish sometimes it wouldn’t have been so unexpected a victory.”

  Bree understood what he was trying to say. “Because then instead of being Sentya, you would have been a Kumma?”

  Jaresh nodded tightly. “Yes. Because then I would have been a Kumma.”

  Bree’s eyes teared up. How lonely Jaresh must be sometimes. She hugged him, an unexpected expression of support and love since growing up, the two of them hadn’t always been close. Of course, she also felt the same way about Rukh. For whatever reason, she had usually been the odd person out amongst her siblings. Thankfully that distance had closed as they all grew older, and while Rukh and Jaresh were still closer, right now Bree was all Jaresh had. Right now, he needed something to smile about.

  “By the way, say hello to your counselor for me,” Bree said, deadpan.

  “My what?” Jaresh asked, confused.

  “Your counselor. Nanna is going to make you see one since you’ve just killed a man.”

  Jaresh chuckled. “With everything that’s happened and will happen, I hadn’t considered it all that much,” he said. He sobered a moment later. “I know I should feel bad about killing someone, and I suppose it’ll hit me eventually, but right now, I’ve got other things to worry about.”

  Bree was surprised. “You don’t feel any remorse at all?”

  Jaresh shrugged. “I don’t feel much of anything. I’m just numb, but I also don’t think I did anything wrong. However it ended, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill Suge, but I sure don’t regret defending your honor.”

  Bree hugged Jaresh again, touched by his concern for her. “It is really a shame Suge died,” she said. “I mean beyond the obvious. Just think of the humiliation he would have had to live with: the first and only Kumma in history to lose a fight to a Sentya.”

  Jaresh laughed, the worry dropping away from his face, even if only for a moment.

  Bree smiled. Better.

  Jaresh awoke the next morning, bleary-eyed and tired. He hadn’t slept well, which wasn’t a surprise given the events of the night prior. His mouth was dry as sawdust, and he was certain his eyes were red with fatigue. They certainly felt full of grit anyway.

  He hauled himself out of bed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Cook Heltin was already up, swiftly chopping vegetables on the butcher-block table. Behind her, the tandoor oven had already been heated, and from it came the delicious aroma of baking bread. Jaresh’s stomach rumbled. Cook glanced up from her work, took one look at him and magically produced a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. She somehow always knew a person’s needs. One of her gifts. Plus, as a fellow Sentya, she had a soft spot for Jaresh. “The bread should be ready soon,” she said, “and there’s some cinnamon butter in the ice box. I’ll put some aside for you.”

  Jaresh smiled his thanks and quickly drained the juice. It was enough to revive him. Afterward, he went back upstairs to the washroom he once shared with Rukh – all his now – and quickly bathed, shaved his day-old stubble, and brushed his teeth with soda. Bree met him as he walked out of his bedroom.

  “Good. You’re awake,” she said. “The House Council is meeting in the study. Nanna wants you there.”

  Jaresh nodded. “Be right down.”

  He glanced at Bree as they walked down the flight of steps. There was something he wanted to tell her, but he wasn’t sure how she would take it. She could be so prickly sometimes.

  She noticed his silent observation and gave him a look of annoyance. “Just say what’s on your mind. We don’t have all day.”

  That was more like the Bree he’d grown up with. The woman from last night who had been so supportive and kind must have been an illusion. Even as a child, Bree had been self-assured and commanding, almost to the point of arrogance. She wasn’t cruel, but she sure wasn’t sweet and compassionate. Where had the woman from last night come from?

  “I wanted to thank you,” Jaresh said. At Bree’s look of incomprehension, he continued. “For last night. I wouldn’t have wanted to face Amma and Nanna without you around.” He hesitated. “And I know what you were trying to do. Making me laugh. It helped.”

  Bree gave him an amused smile. “You’re welcome,” she said. “That’s what sisters are for. She playfully jabbed him in the ribs. “Don’t get used to it.”

  Jaresh laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  They arrived at the study. The door leading into it was closed.

  “Ready?” Bree asked.

  “Not really, but I might as well get it over with.”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

  Without waiting any further, Bree knocked once, waited for Nanna’s deeply voiced “Come” and pushed open the door.

  “We’ve received a response from the Wrestivas,” Amma said without preamble upon their entrance into the study.

  “They’re very prompt, aren’t they?” Bree remarked.

  “It is to be expected,” said Garnet Bosde. He was one of Nanna’s oldest friends. In his middle years, Garnet had taken a deep and abiding interest in Nanna when the latter was a young man and new to House Shektan. Nanna hadn’t been an acclaimed warrior, but he had a sharp and ambitious mind, something Garnet recognized early on, and over the ensuing years he had helped nurture and shape that unassuming young man i
nto a ruling ‘El of great standing. Garnet was old now, in his late seventies and stooped with age. His clothes hung like a billowing tent from his rail-thin frame, and he walked with a slow, shuffling gait, leaning heavily on his cane. Though he looked like a dodderer, he was no such thing. It was an assumption those opposed to House Shektan often made to their detriment. Even now, with nearly four score years to him, Garnet’s mind remained firm and diamond-hard, and no one was better at gauging the will of the Chamber of Lords.

  “Sit down, Jaresh,” Sophy Terrell advised. Mira’s mother was a tall, sturdily built woman with gray shot hair piled into her usual bun. Given her squared off, blunt features, she would never be confused with beautiful. Rather the kindest and most generous description of her would have been handsome. Other Shektans affectionately named her ‘the Hound’ because of her dogged determination to complete any task set before her. Members of other, less friendly Houses similarly named her after a canine, but in a less complimentary fashion.

  Jaresh and Bree found seats around a long, rectangular, curly-wood maple table. Last night, the chess set had rested upon it.

  “The Wrestivas response is enclosed within,” Garnet said, passing over an envelope bearing the crest of the Chamber of Lords. “Read it.”

  Jaresh perused the document, reading it twice to make sure he hadn’t misread it. He grimaced in anger. “The Slash of Iniquity. They don’t have the justification for something so serious. It’s only given out to traitors, rapists, and murderers.”

  “Hal’El has always been one to quench his thirst in a raging river when a simple glass of water would do,” said Durmer Volk, the last of Nanna’s councilors. Durmer was a gruff, blunt man, never given to soft-pedaling his words. He was several inches shorter than Jaresh’s father, but he carried himself with a very upright posture. It gave him the appearance of looking down his nose at everyone. He was in his late sixties, and his thinning hair was colored black, which gave it the unfortunate hue of shoe polish. His thick mustache curved down past the corners of his lips to his jaw, and his blocky features were held in a perpetual scowl. His main task – the training of young Shektans in the way of the sword – was one he took very earnestly. However, only rarely did the efforts of his students please him. Secretly, he was called ‘the Great Duriah' by his charges, a reference to the folk of Caste Duriah who were famous for being extremely serious about their duties.